On 10th May I had a late start and leisurely breakfast with Marlie, who then hopped on the back of my motorbike for a trip to the ruined Water Palace of Ujung, on the coast at Amalpura.

We then cruised around the attractive scenery, with a brief stop at another temple. I was so used to Hindu temples by this stage that I didn’t even bother to take any photos of it.

We stopped for a mid morning cup of tea at a roadside stall, with a great view over the valley below. Finally, late morning we headed back to the lodging, I checked out, and said farewell to Marlie.

Heading south to Amalpura once more, and turning inland, I reached the village of Besakih, famous for the large temple nearby. I headed up to the temple – it is situated on the south west slopes of Mount Agung – the large volcano that dominates the east of Bali. The temple was the largest that I had seen so far. Some aspects of it were remarkably reminiscent of the Mayan pyramids of Central America, which was rather fascinating given that they are half a planet away. It is a major tourist attraction, but it wasn’t as overrun as I had feared.

From Besakih, after rumours of a carnival in a nearby village, I headed over the rice terraced hills in the direction of Bangli. On the way I stopped to take a picture of a swastika above a doorway – this was a little alarming, but I vaguely remembered that the swastika is a perfectly respectable symbol in Hindu culture.

I had noticed on many roads that there were curious long poles planted outside peoples houses, with decorations dangling down. Someone said that this was to celebrate the harvest. Also by doorways and in the street there always seemed to be paper plates with incense burning – something to do with cleaning the spirits. The Balinese live their culture in a way that I have not seen anywhere else. It is sad to have to leave this fascinating and peaceful island.

Reaching Bangli, I found that the rumours were true – today was carnival day and the streets were full of excited locals waiting for parades to come past. I elbowed my way in and managed to capture some of the sights on film.

After the parade had finished filing past, I had a couple of hours left before I had to be back in Ubud to drop off the motorbike, so I made one more trip north for 20 km to get a picture of Lake Batur with sun on it.

Before long I was back outside Widiana bungalows in Ubud, saying a sad farewell to the motorbike, and checking in for my last night in the Southern Hemisphere. Later I found a cultural show that was just starting, featuring local dances, and gamelan music played on traditional xylophones, drums, and bamboo flutes.

Fortunately I got up early on 11th May, because getting transport down to the airport at Denpasar was more awkward that I had expected. The “shuttle” that I had been told about didn’t really exist, and I ended up getting a regular scheduled bus to Denpasar centre then a taxi to the airport. Then, of course, I was told that the plane was delayed by 3 hours…

When the promised Airbus A310 finally showed up at the gate, I took one look and said “that’s not an A310”. It was in fact an old Douglas DC10, with the third engine lurking ominously at the base of the vertical stabiliser…

But it flew, and before long I was in the skies over Java, and an hour (and 2 lunches) later landed at Jakarta. The transit procedure was a little confusing. My original ticket had me stopping for 2 days at Jakarta, but I had changed it to fly straight on to Singapore. I had a little bit of time to wander out of the airport, at least to breath the smoggy air of the largest city in one of the most densely populated islands in the world.

Then, at 15:25, I took off again for the 2 hour flight up to Singapore. I got yet more food, and was feeling quite full by the time the plane crossed the equator and started its descent into Singapore’s Changi Airport.

Arriving at Changi was quite a significant moment for me. Having headed west into unknown parts of the planet for the last 6 months, I finally reached a place that I have been to before… by heading east! Therefore the world is round.

My plan being to head to Brunei without delay, I checked flights to Bandar Seri Begawan. I also rang my Bruneian friend Wai Fong, and she was delighted that I was planning to head to Brunei the next day, and said I could stay a night or two at her parents house if I needed. I bought my air ticket and caught a bus to a “crash pad” – budget accommodation (or what passes for budget accommodation in Singapore) that involves squashing as many travellers into a small space as possible. My room had space for a narrow bed, with about 20 cm down the side, and just enough space to open the door.

On 12th May, I returned directly to the airport and checked in, being told that I should take my backpack as hand luggage. Changi being a good place to get cheap electronics, I looked for a new watch – one that I could wear diving. I found one that claimed to work down to a depth of 200 metres, so bought it. In security my Swiss army knife was discovered in my luggage, and confiscated but I was told that I would get it back in Brunei.

Once on the Singapore Airlines Airbus, this minor inconvenience was more than made up for by the superb service, and by far the best breakfast that I have had for as long as I can remember. There is a reason why Singapore Airlines is regarded as the world’s best.

I last arrived in Brunei just 18 months ago in 1989, and remember that there was a “friendly” greeting on the wall on the way down toward the arrivals hall, reminding everyone that the penalty for trafficking drugs was death. Even the flight attendant would sweetly mention it when taxiing to the terminal: “Welcome to Bandar Seri Begawan, where the temperature is 29 degrees, and the penalty for drug trafficking is death”.

However, someone has evidently convinced them that this wasn’t the nicest way to greet the 99.99% of visitors who were not drug traffickers, and the signs and announcements have now gone!

There was no bus into the centre of Bandar Seri Begawan, but I managed to get a ride with someone from a company who we had done business with when I was working here in 1989. He took me to the bus station, from where I got a 2 hour bus ride to the other end of Brunei, and the oil town of Seria. From the bus station I walked the short distance to Wai Fong’s house.

I walked up the long flight of steps up to the front door, kicked off my shoes, and knocked. When Wai Fong opened the door, it was the first time for 6 months that I had seen a familiar face. It was mighty good to see her!

The rest of the day was, inevitably, spent chatting and catching up on all the news. An awful lot has happened since I left Brunei in January 1990! Part way through it got dark, and Wai Fong’s mother served a delicious dinner.